Forgiven
by Kendra1996
Summary: Edward's POV. Alternate version of how Bella found out and told him it didn't matter.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, Breaking Dawn, nor any of Stephenie Meyer's characters.**

Edward POV. This takes place around the time when Edward and Bella are ignoring each other, after the incident with Tyler's van in Twilight. An alternate way for Bella to have found out. She has a dream instead of going to La Push, and decides to communicate her feelings to Edward.

**Forgiven**

We made our way to some seats in the back of the gym, the less to be noticed and the quicker to leave. My family and I sat down, and the resigned thoughts that I tried so hard to block out only seemed to intensify my own.

Forks High was throwing some sort of talent show. It was, by the humans' minds at least, an important event, and Mr. Varner had asked Emmett if our family was coming. Because we had hunted – gone on a camping trip – only two days earlier, and because Alice was not there to warn Emmett, he hadn't been able to think of an appropriate excuse. Even bearing the reputation of remote and snobbish, not coming to the talent show would be beyond rude now.

I leaned back in my seat, pinching the bridge of my nose, and closed my eyes. I didn't have to wonder what the monotonous students of this school would perform. All week the only thing I kept hearing was _talent show, talent show, talent show_. Everything that the humans had considered doing themselves, what they thought their friends and enemies would be doing – it was enough to drive anyone insane.

_Wonder if anyone's going to do some wrestling or weight-lifting . . . _Emmett was distracting himself by trying to imagine the impossible – that the show would be even remotely entertaining.

_Perhaps the dress she said she liked in that magazine . . . _Jasper, like Emmett, was distracting himself, but this time on Alice, internally debating what to buy her. Alice was shamelessly cheating, skipping into her familiar realm – the future – to see exactly what Jasper was going to buy her.

_Start and finish already . . ._ Rosalie's silent tone was twice as scathing as usual.

I sighed. For once, I agreed with Rosalie's thoughts.

At that moment, the talent show started. With what else but a piano playing.

It was a very basic piece, but the way the boy played! It sounded like a jumble of rocks banging together, not a composition. I winced, and Emmett turned to glance at me. One look at my expression and he was smothering snickers.

At least one person was enjoying this.

The boy finished to enthusiastic applause, and I suppressed an eye roll.

The show continued. A bad stand-up comedian act, an obviously fake magician show, and a song that actually brought Alice out of her world and made her clap her hands over her ears, her eyelids shut tight. Jasper scowled and hugged her tight to his chest. I smiled wryly.

But then I stiffened just a bit, because the next performance would be Isabella Swan. The girl – the girl with the impossibly, horrifyingly delicious scent, with the wide, chocolate-brown eyes, and that pale, translucent skin. The only human who had noticed the shift in our eye color, our speed and our strength, our inhumanity. The only human with a mind as silent and mysterious as I had ever heard – or not.

The girl that Alice had seen me fall in love with . . .

No. No, no, no. That would not happen. I had watched and studied Bella, and been awed, for the first time in my life, by a human. She was brave, and unselfish, responsible and advanced for her age – just plain good. And she did not deserve a killer. She did not deserve to have a monster love her, touch her, be with her . . .

That had not stopped me from slipping into her room every night. Watch her as she slept, her lovely, not-quite-symmetrical face peaceful. Listen as she spoke my name, again and again in that strangely anxious voice.

Those moment caused an equal amount of pain and joy, too great for words. But I had to keep reminding myself that she would forget me, someday, forget me and move on.

My dead, frozen, mangled heart seemed and to expand and get mangled some more. She would move on and age . . . and someday die. I would not be able to bear that . . .

I shook myself out of my tortured thoughts. She was going to be reading a poem, I knew. For the first time, I turned to the stage with interest.

Bella climbed carefully onstage – so she wouldn't stumble? I chuckled. Odd, how she could make me smile, even now.

I leaned forward in my chair, my elbows resting on my knees, my eyes contentedly resting on her. Alice turned to watch her someday-perhaps-friend, too, _her_ eyes wistful. She missed the friend she had never talked to yet.

Bella's hand curled around the mike. "This poem is called Forgiven," she murmured, her voice a little husky. From what? I scanned Jasper for a single millisecond. Frightened anticipation pulsed from her . . . why?

Bella took a deep breath, and began.

_Rain pattered hard against my window,_

_and I had the strangest dream that night._

_I was walking through the dark wet forest,_

_and the civil monster stepped into sight. _

I froze, and beside me I felt my family stiffen as well. Civil monster . . .

_His eyes were black as a void, and bright_

_with a frightening, feral excitement,_

For one moment, those warm, bewildered eyes rose and locked gazes with mine. They were exhilarated and defiant at the same time, but there something else there, something I could place.

_His bright black eyes, they beckoned to me,_

_Confusing, persuading me to relent._

Excited black eyes, persuasive and frightening. Tools of a monster . . .

"Impossible," Rosalie hissed.

A faint, becoming blush graced her pale features, an almost irresistible invitation.

_His bone-white body, leeched of all warmth,_

_was coiled, crouched, as if to spring,_

_His muscles were tensed, stretched tight,_

_like a cat, like some long-lost King._

Our kind, the ones who hunted the traditional prey, moved like wildcats. Their bodies were hard and cold and white . . .

_My gaze moved slowly up to his face,_

Figures that Bella would look the monster in the eye, I thought for one wild second.

_And my heart thundered like a throbbing harp,_

Ah, her heart was beating very quickly now, and the sound was more beautiful than any harp could play, more beautiful than a piano, than any music on this earth.

_because the genteel monster smiled at me,_

_and his teeth were pointed and sharp._

_His teeth were pointed and sharp. _My entire family was staring intently at Bella. No one seemed able to move. Their thoughts were faint and almost incoherent with shock.

She knew then. She had to know.

_But then his smile faltered, wavered – vanished,_

_for a great wolf stepped out before us,_

_its shoulders trembling, his growl terrifying, _

_his rich red coat gleaming like rust. _

Oh, was all I could think. She knew more than that, even.

But then my shock was replaced by a sudden, burning fury, for for her to know about werewolves would mean that, maybe, she had been in the company of one.

Werewolves were unstable, as wild as any newborn vampire.

She had been in danger, then. But she was still obviously unhurt, I calmed myself.

That did not quench the fury.

_And the great red wolf crouched, its back to me,_

_to protect me from the civil monster._

_And the civil monster's eyes were fierce, _

_but the great red wolf's were no milder. _

Ah, of course. Even in dreams and poems, mortal enemies will be mortal enemies.

_And the mortal enemies fought, and_

I suppressed a mirthless, hoarse laugh.

_the ground shook with the force of their anger._

_They moved too fast for me to see,_

_till they were just a crimson blur. _

Well, she _had_ noticed our speed.

_Then the great red wolf dealt the genteel monster,_

_a lasting death blow to the head,_

_and the civil monster crumpled in_

_a cascade of rocks, white and red. _

_I smiled, and stepped forward eagerly,_

_To thank the great red wolf, but then_

My breath caught in my throat. Yes, Bella _would_ go and thank the monster, but werewolves were monsters as well, and I knew what would have to happen now.

This is just a poem about a dream, I calmed myself, over and over. Not real life, just a dream, never real life.

_I froze in horror, for the wolf turned on me,_

_His eyes red with wild bloodlust. _

_And the wolf raised one clawed paw,_

_to swipe me, in his bloodlust, _

_but then yet another white blur,_

_flew out of the dark forest. _

_Another _monster?

_And the guardian fought the great red wolf,_

_To protect me, pressed against a tree,_

_and then the great red wolf ran away,_

_and the guardian turned to look at me. _

This was another vampire, it had to be. A second vampire. But while she called the first a civil monster, she called the second a guardian . . . so did that mean that she knew there were two types of us? One that was the traditional horror, but another that was so much different. Had she or had she not been referring to my family when she spoke of the civil monster . . . or the guardian?

_I recoiled away, for one heartbeat,_

_because the guardian looked so like the monster,_

_with his pointed teeth, and hard white skin,_

_and bright black eyes, so much darker. _

Yes, but vegetarians were still so alike to the carnivores.

_But then I took a closer look,_

Why would any human in their right mind take another look at the greatest predator in the world? There must truly be something wrong with hers. I had never heard it, after all.

_a closer look into his soul,_

_for the guardian's was very different from the monster's,_

_ripped asunder with tears and holes. _

The hopeless feeling in me evaporated. Did she think . . . did she believe that I had a soul?

_And it did not matter that the guardian_

_had also drunk, had also killed so many,_

It didn't matter . . .

_because of one great vital difference,_

_so small to the true monster._

She _did_ think that there was a difference, between me and a monster, a killer.

_For the guardian had repented, felt remorse,_

_tried again, unlike the real horror,_

Unlike the real horror.

_and that was what transformed him,_

_from a demon, to a hero. _

A hero.

My thoughts were incoherent with shock and . . . yes, with love, and gratitude. Gratitude that she believed in my soul, in my chance at Heaven. Not only that, but she thought that I had an even better chance, that I was a _hero_, just because I had tried.

And she spoke about me, protecting her, like she truly believed that if such a situation were to arise, I would protect her.

I would.

Bella's warm, beautiful eyes rose and met my own once again, and she did not flinch away from my alien stare. Perhaps she recognized the love in my gaze, a love so great and strong and all-encompassing that it would frighten most humans. But I could now give a name to the strange emotion I had seen before.

It, too, was love.

She loved me.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to look into Carlisle's wise eyes. "You see?" he whispered. "Listen to her, your love, who knows you better than anyone else." He slipped away.

I blinked, dazed, and realized that my family had left to give me some privacy. They, too, seemed to know me well.

Only then did I become aware that I was in Forks High gym, surrounded by children on a talent show night. Everyone was clapping – a standing ovation for Bella's performance. She smiled shyly and walked quickly back to her seat, stumbling a bit. Her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes still bright.

Her seat was right next to Mike Newton's. He eagerly smiled at her and complimented her poem, and his thoughts were suddenly much, much more aggravating than the past week's.

No matter. I would pretend no longer, I would not ignore her.

I loved her, and, even more incredibly, she loved me back.

She would not forget me. She would forget Newton and Crowley and Yorkie, those generic sheep-like children who wished to court her, who could never possibly deserve her.

I didn't deserve her either. But her poem was still ringing in my ears, and I knew I would try my hardest to deserve her. Be as good as I possibly could, so that maybe, I would live up to her forgiveness of my past.


	2. Chapter 2

**Forgiven (Continued)**

_Edward's POV_

"Your poem was really nice," I heard Newton say. "Where did you get the idea?"

His thoughts were rather different from his spoken words. _That blush on her cheeks while she performed was so hot . . . she is so hot, she's definitely already in love with me . . . I should ask her out again. . . ._

I clenched my teeth. Stupid, hormonally-charged generic teenager with his one-track mind. He would never, ever take Bella out; never touch her, not while I had something to say about it.

"Um, I don't know . . . I guess, it was sort of sudden . . ." the angel's sweet, clear voice carried over to me, her mind as silent as ever. She was uncomfortable, but there was also a hint of acid in her tone; clearly, she, like me, knew that Newton hadn't really paid attention to the poem.

_Yeah, I should ask her now . . . look at how she's looking at me, she's head over heels in love with me . . . yeah, now's the best time._

I scowled. He wouldn't dare . . . but yes, he would. After all, he was her most tenacious suitor, and I had not begun to court her even, so he couldn't know the depth of my love for this angel.

He was going to ask her out now. I could not allow that. Rising abruptly, I made my way in their direction. Bella had been the last to perform; most of the guests were milling around and talking, getting ready to leave in perhaps fifteen minutes or so.

Newton opened his mouth to speak those hideous words, so modern and awkward – _will you go out with me_. I came up behind them.

"Bella," I said politely, and reveled in her beautiful name, "Are you coming?" I used the smooth, appealing tone that didn't scare humans, so she wouldn't be alarmed.

They spun around to face me. Bella looked a little startled and almost caught off-guard, a warm blush spreading over her cheekbones. Newton looked furious and irritated. I enjoyed his thoughts.

_Him. That freak . . . chicks think he's hot, but compared to me . . . He better not be out to steal my girl. . . ._ I ignored the rest, controlling myself so I wouldn't smirk.

In response to Bella's questioning, embarrassed gaze, I elaborated, "You said I could take you home, remember? Since my car's faster. We'd better get going, I have to be home soon too."

"Oh . . . oh, yeah, Edward. Um, sorry Mike, I'll see you on Monday, OK?" I examined her eyes as she spoke haltingly – she truly was a terrible liar, but that was just another of her virtues. She was so good that she couldn't deceive someone. Whereas I could deceive, and did, all the time, with the ease of a master.

I relished the way she said my name with so much more ease and pleasure than she did Newton's.

Luckily, Newton wasn't paying much attention to her – his eyes were fixed on me. "What do you mean, you're giving her a ride home?" he demanded with self-righteous anger, as though he had a claim on Bella that no one else had.

"I'm so sorry if this caused some sort of disruption in your plans," the words slipped off my tongue like sweet, insincere poison, "But Bella's father drove her here and he already left. She has no way to get home, and we already agreed that I would take her home." I turned to her, softening my expression and voice, so that they were gentle enough to suit her angelic personality. "Are you coming, Bella?"

She stared at me, that lovely blush deepening, her eyes wider than usual. She looked frozen for a moment, but then a shy little smile graced her lips. "Yeah, thanks, Edward." She moved forward hesitantly, waving goodbye at a still-shocked Newton.

I led her outside into the fresh evening air, staying closer to her side than usual. Her dark eyes were bright in the surrounding darkness, her pale skin glowing with her rosy cheeks. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder in gleaming waves. She looked absolutely like a goddess. So much more than "hot."

"Thanks, Edward," she said shyly again, glancing at me. I wished I could read her mind. Was she looking for some sort of reaction to the poem? Was she wondering at this sudden change of attitude?

I had to remind myself to take it slow. Slow and gentle, not to frighten her away with my speed but at the same time not to go too slow. I knew she wouldn't like that, either.

And I had to start off as a friend, not begin my relationship with her like a bomb, already a lover. I didn't even know if she truly loved me as a woman would love a man, I just knew she loved me as a friend, that I had earned her forgiveness.

This was a first for me. Love. I felt like I was stumbling around in a room where I couldn't see a thing. A room filled with the most enticing scent that existed, a soft, beautiful room, a room that made me _want_ to get lost in.

I gazed at her, feasting my hungry eyes. I couldn't get enough of her beauty. "You're welcome," I said, because I couldn't think of anything else to say.

We would talk in the car, I decided. For a moment I wondered what the inside of the car would smell like with her in it . . . and quickly drove the thought out of my head. I would just have to open the window, that was all.

Bella shivered, pulling her thin jacket tighter around her slender torso. Her lips had a blue tinge about them. She was cold. So I couldn't possibly open the window. I would just have to suffer silently, and feel the burn. It would be better than for Bella to be cold.

"Bella," I murmured softly. She looked up at me as I said her name, staring at me with her big chocolate eyes. "You're cold."

And before she could protest, I shrugged out of my beige jacket, which was thicker and warmer than hers, for her to wear. I helped her put it on automatically, an act I had been trained to do since childhood, even by my biological parents, whatever these vile, modern boys did nowadays.

Her shy smile widened slightly into a warmer, dazzling one, her head tilted up to look me in the eyes. I stopped breathing – we were so close, and her body was so warm and soft, not to mention that bone-melting smile. . . .

We had reached the car by now, thankfully. I reached behind her lithe body and opened the door for her, waiting patiently as she slid in clumsily. I could still see her entrancing smile in my mind's eye.

I was in the driver's seat in the blink of an eye. She already knew about me, after all . . . and then, I don't think she even noticed. She was staring at her hands, folded across her lap, lost in her own thoughts.

Silently, I started the car, sliding the Volvo smoothly out of the parking lot. I drove slower than usual, much slower. I wanted as much alone time with her possible.

"Um," Bella said, raising her head to look up at me, "I told Ch– Dad that I'd let Angela or Jess drive me home, he'll . . ." she trailed off uncomfortably.

I couldn't help the gentle smile that spread across my face. "Don't worry. He probably won't see me, not if you don't want him to."

She flushed. I swallowed a chuckle.

"Your poem was beautiful," I murmured to her, starting off slowly.

Bella stared at me. It took her a half-second longer than it should have to answer me. "Thanks."

I allowed another moment of peaceful quiet to pass, and then continued teasingly, "But really, where did you get the inspiration?"

She looked quickly away, as though the sight of my eyes would contaminate her somehow. Scarlet roses bloomed in her cheeks. "You'll laugh if I tell you," she mumbled.

She was so unsure of herself, probably wondering if I had caught her hint, if I was angry or happy, if she misjudged my expressions. I had to prove to her that I loved her. It sounded strange to think it, because in all my imaginings, in all my daydreams as I watched her sleep at night, I had never thought of the confession . . . just what would happen after the confession. In the scenarios I constructed in my head, we had both been deeply in love, had both known of the other's love. But I had completely skipped the confession.

You're going too far ahead of yourself, Edward, I told myself sternly. And I was so arrogant and cocky. After all, Bella may not want me at all, either.

And as unsure of what was going on as she was. I swallowed another chuckle, but this one was darker, less amused.

"Laugh? I don't think so," I countered.

She shook her head, her head still bowed over her lap. She refused to open her mouth.

I made my voice as melodic, persuasive, and smooth as I knew how, twisting sideways and leaning towards her in my driver's seat. The car was cruising slowly down the empty road. "Won't you tell me? Please."

With the hand that wasn't absently gripping the steering wheel, I reached out and tipped her pale chin so I could look her full in the face.

Her skin was so incredibly warm, so bone-meltingly warm compared to my icy touch. I was only touching her chin with the pad of one finger, yet I still felt her heat crystal clear. But it wasn't enough – I wanted more. I wanted to spread my fingers till my whole hand was cupping her face, her jaw, and slide them forward even more, till they were in the roots of her hair and I could feel those silky, brown tresses. Stop the car completely, and pull her over till she was lying across my lap, her deep brown eyes penetrating me till the core. Caress my other hand over her smooth face, run it down her neck, down and across her torso, cup her hip for one moment and then continue further down till my fingers curled around the back of her knees. Move closer still, and press my cold lips to her warm, yielding throat . . . make my way up her neck, over her jaw and ear, and then drift to the side where those full, soft lips rested. . . .

She gazed at me, startled, and I gazed right back. Perhaps she could recognize the love and desire burning in my eyes.

My dead heart thudded as she made no move to jerk away from my touch.

"What was your inspiration, Bella?" I repeated softly, no longer light and teasing.

Once again, that glazed, caught-off-guard expression came over those expressive eyes, and her answer came out as though she had no control over her words. "I had a dream," she said breathlessly. The roses in her cheeks were in their full, awe-inspiring bloom now.

Ah. How I wished I could dream. But I had not heard her speak the word vampire or werewolf in the night, so perhaps she had dreamed it during a night when I was hunting.

"What kind of dream?" I breathed. My hand still trapped her chin, forcing her to face me. Perhaps it was selfish of me, forceful of me, but I wanted to, needed to, have full access to the only way I could guess at her thoughts . . . her expressive eyes.

"The same as the poem . . . exactly the same," she whispered, as caught up in the spell as I was. Electricity crackled in the atmosphere around us.

I was being rude, I knew, asking question after question. I couldn't help it, couldn't stop myself. "Do you have any notion of what may have inspired such a dream?" I murmured.

We were very close to each other now, leaning toward one another, equally dazzled by the spell around us. I realized I had unconsciously stopped the car completely. We were parked in the middle of the road. It was a good thing that it was a small side road, barely that, and there were no cars around.

I had been wrong – the roses in her cheeks had not been in full bloom then. Not quite. _Now_ the bloomed, spectacularly, and spread too, all over her face. The sight was so lovely, so bewitching, hat it would have brought me to my knees had I not been sitting already.

She didn't answer immediately, and I waited.

"I was . . ." she whispered, embarrassed, self-conscious – and then suddenly the words spilled out. "Thinking of you, before I feel asleep. Like every night. Of how you saved my life that day, from Tyler's van, and how you were so fast, and so strong, and so otherworldly . . . and I researched on the computer, too. I had already come to the conclusion that you might be a va- vampire," she stuttered over the word, "and most of what I read was nonsense, just excuses for infidelity a long time ago, but I came across some other texts that made a little sense, and they mentioned werewolves . . . and then I went to bed, I was so exhausted and confused. And then I had that dream . . ." she looked into my eyes, her own chocolate irises vague and searching but also so clear, and so loving.

I wondered what texts those might be . . . but it didn't particularly interest me right now.

Silence hung around us. The night was like a velvet blanket, muffling the world, and only Bella and I existed, in our own bubble, in each other's eyes. I had lost track of time, lost track of everything. The only real light came from the glittering stars above us – it was a moonless night. But the _brightest_ light came from Bella. She was a light, an angel herself.

"Do you really believe I am the hero?" My voice was almost soundless, but it held more emotion, more weight, than the loudest shout.

"Of course," she answered immediately, promptly, like the answer was obvious.

"How do you know?"

Her gaze stroked my face for a second, then returned to look into my own orbs. "I know," she said. "I know." She took a deep breath, her lashes fluttering. "The texts mentioned that vampires have red eyes, from the blood of . . . of humans. It said that you can drink nothing but blood. And I remembered that your eyes are golden – it confused me. I thought about for hours, and then the answer came to me – I couldn't believe it had taken so long, it was right in front of me." She smiled. "After all, humans aren't the only ones with blood, right? There are animals, too. And I remembered your frequent camping trips . . ."

She was so perceptive. I listened as she continued.

"The texts . . . mentioned the hunger. The uncontrollable thirst. The burning, and all that. And yet you drank the blood of animals, and I assumed – I had assumed so much, I saw no harm in assuming some more – that it didn't taste so good, or that it wasn't such an appealing alternative, else the texts would have mentioned it, right? And I remembered your gentle father, a doctor, the one who raised you and your family. And I was filled with compassion for your way of life, your sacrifice, the way you tried."

She bit her lip, then grinned shyly. "You can imagine how I felt a bit foolish after that – thinking about mythological creatures who I knew and feeling sorry that they wanted to suck my blood while they probably didn't exist and I was just going crazy!"

Silly Bella. With that amusing end, she managed to draw a laugh from me and get me out of the tightly wound shell I was in. But I quickly returned to that shell.

I was in shock. With love and gratitude again . . . and with disbelief, too. Yes, disbelief. I could not believe what she was telling me.

After that long speech, Bella locked her lips shut, and I felt no need to break the tender, peaceful silence. It had to be ten by now, at least.

It was cool outside, but the interior of the Volvo was hot and scented with Bella's scent. I felt it wrapping around me, intoxicating, burning, exquisite. My hand was still frozen under her face.

Slowly, slyly, as though it was planning on doing it from the very beginning, the atmosphere began to charge with the tense, wonderful electricity again.

Her wide, chocolate-brown eyes were filled with warmth. My alien hand tortuously unfolding itself. I felt like I was a spectator, like I wasn't in control of my own hand. With the sweetest tension, my hand, twice as large as hers, cupped her jaw.

Carefully, Edward, I told myself, carefully. Act as gently as you can, even more so, like you're stroking a bubble of soap, or a china doll. One wrong move and you could crush her skull. I cringed internally at the thought.

My right hand, the one cupping her jaw, slid forward until it gripped the roots of her hair. My left hand came up of its own accord and caressed her cheekbone, so gently I could scarcely feel it. Her heat enveloped me, her racing heartbeat was the sweetest, sweetest music.

To the accompaniment of that music, I leaned forward until my face was inches from hers. Her enticing breath blew across my face, so potent, so concentrated, but this time the bloodlust was gone. All that was left was the lust. . . .

My left hand stroked her features. Her temples, her cheekbones, her nose . . . it skimmed down and rubbed tenderly across her bottom lip. She shuddered involuntarily, with the expression of one locked in the gaze of a snake . . . but I couldn't pull away. I couldn't.

"So," I whispered, and my breath fanned her long hair back slightly, "You . . . forgive me?"

"Forever and always," she answered, her eyes surprisingly open, vulnerable.

"Angel," I breathed, and I cupped both my hands around her face. "Angel."

One eternal second hung, like the world was standing still, holding it's breath, and then she sucked in a haggard, ragged breath, and I realized Bella hadn't been breathing either. Her heartbeat, too, had gone completely uneven – and for a moment it hadn't been beating at all.

This was dangerous, but it brought me back to my senses. With barely a second thought I started the car again and sped down the road, without looking forward. I didn't think Bella even realized we were driving again – her eyes were still glazed and her mouth was slightly open.

I had to be careful. So careful. She was so, so delicate.

We reached her secluded house minutes later. Bella shifted and started in surprise when she saw her house, and I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped my mouth.

"Oh, well . . . I guess . . ." she mumbled uncertainly.

I noticed she didn't say goodbye. Not yet. It was like she didn't want to leave. That gave me hope.

But I had to leave. I had to get home to my family – Alice, definitely, would be jumping up and down in excitement because she could probably see the future change, yet again, and that she would get a best friend now. And Bella needed to get inside her home and go to Charlie, and eat dinner, and go to sleep. That made me smile – after all, I would come back, when she slept. Reunion would be sooner for me than for her.

"I'll see you tomorrow at school," I said softly. She nodded. The roses in her cheeks were showing no sign of wilting. I felt elated, euphoria at the beautiful scarlet.

Bella stepped out of the Volvo carefully, like she was taking extra care not to trip. She looked at me one last time, and then walked to the door. She turned there; stared at me again through the car window, and raised her hand in a wave. I raised my hand in return.

She opened the door, a soft smile on her face, and then she was gone from my sight.

I gazed after her, the loveliest woman in existence. Her scent, heady and sweet and intoxicating, still filled the car, as did her warm. The electricity had barely begun to fade.

We were good friends now. But we would be more than that.

I smiled as I drove away. I would be back as soon as possible, in any case.


	3. Chapter 3

**Forgiven (Continued)**

**First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited, and alerted my story. Every time one of you does it it makes me so happy. Thanks, everyone. Also, thanks to the one who gave me the idea for continuing Forgiven, you know who you are.  
**

**Also, I want you all to know that I won't be updating in at least a week, because we'll be taking a trip down south on Sunday and we won't take the laptop with us. I wrote this chapter extra quickly as compensation. So, I hope you guys like this one!  
**

_Edward's POV_

I drove the Volvo at over two-hundred miles an hour down the driveway of my home, and screeched to a stop an inch from the garage doors.

They were waiting for me.

Well, not the entire family. Carlisle wasn't – overjoyed as he was at what had just happened, he was compassionate enough to leave me alone. He was in his study, working on one thing or another concerning his job. When he heard me park, he sent just me a thought.

_I am happy for you, son._

And that was it. Sensitive as he was, he left me alone.

I smiled.

Esme was like Carlisle –except, of course, that she showed much more joy, being my mother in all the ways that counted. Her thoughts were similar to Carlisle's, and she was thinking about Bella and me now. I knew she would want to talk with me later, and this particular talk I didn't mind. Just a short, pleasant conversation about how this would work out for the best, how joyous she was, how wonderful my choice was . . . I certainly didn't mind that.

Rosalie was surprisingly quiet. The depth, the love, and the feeling behind Bella's poem had, you could say, stunned her. She would probably puff up soon, but for now she was quiet.

Emmett was Emmett.

_Did you two get all mushy together in your Volvo? Did you confess your love and your past and how you'd love each other for eternity and all that? I hope you didn't scare her away, that would seriously put a damper on your future relationship . . ._

_He _had certainly been waiting. He'd probably been preparing himself the entire time. The moment he heard me, he began a rant of merciless teasing.

This was some of the kinder, more subtle of his thoughts. He – and the others, probably – were attempting to guess what exactly had gone on when I'd driven her home.

Well, we hadn't done quite that . . . I was taking this much slower than Emmett would have done. More courteous, more gentlemanly. We hadn't really talked about our feelings at all.

Jasper was utterly confused, I could tell, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

And Alice was waiting for me by the front door.

I climbed slowly out of the Volvo and went to her. She danced toward me, her entire face glowing.

_See?_ she thought smugly. _That was so sweet . . . _

"It was," I agreed, ignoring the first part of what she had thought.

_Now I finally get to be friends with Bella. We'll be the best._

I sighed.

_Yes!_

"Hold on a second, Alice," I said sharply. "First, some rules, alright? Listen to me."

She rolled her eyes, but sat down on the steps nonetheless. Her mind was impatient. _I know, Edward_.

"Listen to me," I repeated, folding down beside her. "I know that you know to be in control when you're around her, to be careful about not scaring her away, don't flash your teeth too widely . . . you know that and you _will_ follow it. But there are some other things as well."

Alice say what I was about to say, and opened her mouth before I could. Or in this case her mind. _Excuse me? Why can't I tell her about vampire venom? Why can't I talk about the Volturi? Why can't I tell her about Jasper and Rosalie's past? Why –_

"Listen to me," I repeated for the third time. "You can't tell her about vampire venom because she will _not_ become a vampire, so there is no point in giving her extra information that will only frighten her."

_She most certainly _will_ become one of us_._ I can see it._

I closed my eyes. "She will not." I could see that Alice was about to argue, so I continued before she could. "You won't tell her about the Volturi because it will only frighten her, needlessly, because if they come here then we will find a way to get them away before Bella will even know of their presence."

Alice sighed, but didn't argue. In this topic, in the latter of what I'd said, at least, she agreed with me.

"And with everything else . . ." I exhaled, looking away before returning sharply to Alice. "You don't have to keep it directly from her. But don't go up to her and say, 'I want to tell you about how Rosalie was abused and Jasper got all those scars and everything else there is to know about us.' Don't. If she asks you directly, then answer . . . but don't elaborate, and try not talk about this subject in general. About vampires – and werewolves for that matter. Please, Alice, don't."

Alice gazed at me long and hard, and I could hear her thoughts. _You can't keep this from her; shelter her from the truth, like this. You can't, Edward. She has a right to know, and there's a good chance she'll _have_ to know. Don't argue, Edward, you know there is. I'll do as you ask, but know that I don't approve and I don't agree. I think it is best if you go up to her and do exactly as you said I shouldn't._

There was silence for a moment, and then Alice smiled brightly. "I'm going to go and call Bells now. Tell her I'm going to pick her up tomorrow," she said, the smugness at her triumph still laced into her tone.

"You'll do no such thing," I told her irritably. "It's late and she's probably in bed by now, and in any case, _I_ will pick her up in the morning."

_Aw, our little Edward is growing up_, Emmett crowed from inside, having heard our conversation. _Bring your jacket, Edward, it'll be cold and she'll be begging for it. . . . _

I swallowed my disgust and ignored him.

Alice's silver laughter floated around me, and she shrugged. "If you're sure . . . just so you know, I'm planning on inviting her for a sleepover soon . . . I'm sure you'll enjoy that . . ." She darted away before I could muss her hair.

By now Emmett was in the clouds. What Alice had said had opened a fresh, perfect new batch of teasing specially related to sleepovers. And he couldn't wait till Bella actually came over. He was positive that she would be a perfect victim, being human and prone to blushing – a lot.

I had to swallow my disgust again.

There was one last thing . . . Esme.

I smiled and entered the house. My mother was waiting for me by the piano.

_Edward,_ she thought happily when I came into view. I slid in next to her before the great, beautiful instrument.

"I'm so happy for you," she said, echoing Carlisle's thoughts. I chuckled, and she laughed along with me.

"She's the sweetest creature I ever met," Esme murmured, "So sweet, and gentle, and kinder than any girl I've ever met . . . and _extremely_ perceptive, isn't she?"

I wholeheartedly agreed.

"But she observes only the truth," Esme continued, smiling, and reaching over to brush my hair out of my eyes. I was over a head taller than she was. "You are a hero, my son. And you deserve the best. She is perfect for you."

At that moment, Emmett sauntered in.

"Hey, Edward, Mom," he greeted us cheerfully. He winked at me, and I raised my own eyebrow at him in return. "It's getting late, your little human is probably asleep by now . . . aren't you going to go and watch her sleep like the stalker you are? You know, Rose –"

Rosalie entered, her expression stony. She had clearly gotten over the temporary shock, but now you could say that Bella's poem had only added fuel to the fire. Rosalie now felt slightly more protective of this forgiving human, and now she disliked the ugly future Alice had foreseen even more.

"– _Rosalie_," Emmett corrected himself hastily. I didn't bother smothering my snort of laughter, and he glared at me. It was well known that Rosalie only liked that nickname on occasion, and now she definitely wasn't in the mood. "Rosalie called you a peeping tom –"

"He is," Rosalie interrupted him, acid dripping from every syllable. "A repulsive, disgusting stalker who steals opportunities and trades them in for this cursed half-life."

It was difficult to decide who Rosalie resented more, Bella or me. Bella, for having the perhaps-future, the chance and the choice, that Rosalie never had and never will. Or me, for being the one who would, probably, persuade Bella to give up that chance at redemption.

I sighed. Though I felt bitter toward her for thinking of this, it was also one of the greatest problems in the relationship between Bella and me, and I respected Rosalie for recognizing this, for not wanting it to happen. Unlike Alice, who didn't seem to care at all about the entire issue.

Esme let out a breath, too. She looked at Rosalie wearily. "Rosalie, let your brother be," she admonished gently. "He knows very well of the dangers. You think he isn't against them, too?"

"If he doesn't Bella to be a vampire," Rosalie hissed, "If he knows this relationship is bad, then why doesn't he stay away?"

"He did," Alice snapped back, materializing behind her sister. Jasper followed at her heels, his expression impossible to read. "He did stay away until a couple hours ago. But like I've been telling you people for ages, Bella –"

"What makes you so sure of yourself, Alice?" Rosalie snarled.

Jasper stepped forward, his unfathomable expression turning cold and angry. "Don't speak to Alice like that, Rose," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "And I agree with her. Yes, this life is cursed – it isn't even a life – but Bella is special. And like Alice proved to me –" he shot her a loving look, "It's possible to make it through happily, if you have your mate at your side. We all know that, we've all experienced this love, and only Edward hasn't. You want to deny him this chance? He's been alone for so long. And we _all_ were human once, Rosalie. If Emmett hadn't been changed, you wouldn't have him. If Alice hadn't been changed, I wouldn't have her."

"I would rather," whispered Rosalie, rising in storm-like fury, "Be human and alone, than cursed, alien, inhuman, and in love!" Her voice rose to a pain-filled shout.

Behind her, to the side, Emmett flinched. But he knew this. We all did. We all knew what Rosalie wanted most in the world. We all knew she'd give anything to have it.

Even Emmett.

Carlisle appeared during the terrible silence. I could hear his disappointed, pained thoughts.

"Enough," he said quietly, addressing his entire family. The incredible world he had built with his love and compassion. "Enough."

The argument withered under his disappointed, fatherly gaze.

"You all," he continued in the same quiet tone, "present a good point. All of you. This is a problem that cannot be solved so easily. But, again, you all forget one very good point." He looked around at the assembled members of his adopted family – a true family, really, in all the ways the counted.

"We are not talking about ourselves. We are talking about Bella. And even, we are talking about Bella and Edward, and them alone. None of you, not I or any of you, have any right to make their decisions for them. I don't remember," Carlisle raised his voice slightly, because Rosalie had opened her own mouth furiously, "I don't remember that Edward ever meddled in the love affairs between any of us. Therefore, we cannot meddle in his. You will _leave him alone_." He caught the eye of every single family member. "Including you, Alice."

He took a deep breath. "That is all. This subject is closed for now. Everyone, go back to what you were doing before." He took his wife's hand, and together they vanished into his study.

Alice and Jasper vanished somewhere, too, and Rosalie left in a huff, but Emmett stayed sitting next to me.

He poked my side. "Well? Are you going?" he teased, but I could see the lingering sadness in his eyes.

I stood, nodding. "I will. But you – go to Rose, Emmett." I pushed him in that direction.

My duty to my family was done. I didn't linger.

I was already outside, in the Volvo, heading back to my personal piece of heaven. To Bella.


End file.
